A Matter of Personal Opinion
by PhinnieLin
Summary: Because L/D isn’t a hallucinatory drug, no matter what Draco wishes. General parody of slashfic, H/D. Chapter three up!! The long broom ride to Hogwarts contains more than Harry or Draco could have wished....
1. Bad Faith

A Matter of Honest Opinion: Chapter One: Bad Faith  
  
Draco Malfoy bounced into his bedroom and began to search for his broom. It wasn't under his bed, or on top of the wardrobe, or even, he found, in his closet. It was then that he noticed something off about the whole situation, and he poked his head out of said closet warily.  
  
His room was bare.  
  
No posters, not even his lucky "50 Ways to Annoy Gryffindors and Get Away With It" one. No books. No bookshelf. Not even a rug, he thought, somewhat disturbed. He stood and came out, dusting his robes off. He crossed his arms and put on a thoughtful face.  
  
His room was completely devoid of personal belongings. The only things that were present were a small desk with a writing lamp, the wardrobe, which he noticed then was completely empty, a mirror on the far wall, and the bed. The Bed. It loomed, twice the size that it normally was, with black silk sheets and rumpled blankets. It looked like a Sex Bed. One that had just had people having Sex on it.  
  
This was highly annoying, as Draco hadn't been one of those people, and as far as he was concerned, if anyone was to be having sex on his bed, it was going to be himself. And no one else.  
  
He considered this, and decided to allow for whoever he was having sex with. But no one beyond that. Well... He reconsidered again. Maybe if they were waiting their turn. But certainly no more after that!  
  
He came to this conclusion just in time it appeared, for suddenly there was a knock on the door. Draco blinked. Had he left it shut? He didn't think that he had.  
  
There was another knock, and finally the door opened. His father walked in, a somewhat perturbed expression on his face.  
  
"Draco," Lucius began, and then hesitated.  
  
Draco cocked his head to one side, the picture of patience. Lucius looked at him, seemed to shudder, than turned around and drew a key ring from his pocket. He proceeded to lock the door, which was odd as Draco was entirely certain that he hadn't even *had* a Muggle lock on it before this.  
  
Lucius turned back to face him, and put a hand to his temple and massaged the skin there as though he was fighting off a migraine. He walked over to the bed and plopped down, despite the fact that it was an entirely ungraceful movement and that Malfoys never, ever "plopped."  
  
"Draco," He said again, and hesitated once more. Draco waited but this time his father was able to catch himself. "Son, I'm afraid I need to rape you."  
  
Draco blinked.  
  
"Come again?" He croaked, his eyes gone rather wide.  
  
Lucius nodded and shrugged out of his robes, leaving them puddled beneath himself on the Sex Bed. Draco looked at him, completely appalled.  
  
"And *why* do you have to do this?"  
  
Lucius looked slightly shifty. Draco edged closer to the desk and curled one hand about the lamp. His father didn't seem to notice.  
  
"It's a angst slash fic." Lucius shrugged at Draco's look. "Look, you're the main character so you get raped and slapped about a lot."  
  
"Oh, swell for *me*."  
  
The older man nodded. Draco pulled the lamp in front of him, holding it two fisted. Lucius continued. "You see, this is an Abused!Draco story, specifically an L/D. And, unfortunately for you, most stories like this get straight to the point by adding in rape with heaps of beatings."  
  
"So, what's you're trying to say is that this is an...L/D...fic?"  
  
"I'm afraid so, my son."  
  
"And I'm assuming that L/D isn't a hallucinatory drug of some sort?"  
  
"Ah, no." Lucius stood and began to take off his shirt. Draco was feeling rather queasy.  
  
"So, why are you going to rape me again?"  
  
Lucius paused in his activities and shot an exasperated look at his son. "I have to rape you so that Harry Potter can find your bruised and broken body, thus providing an angsty scene where the two of you fall in love."  
  
"Oh." Then it seemed to process.  
  
"Father, that's disgusting."  
  
"It's all a matter of personal opinion, Draco. I'm sure that there are lots of people who want to have their bruised and broken bodies presented to Harry Potter."  
  
"Yes, but I'm not one of them!"  
  
Lucius gave him a sympathetic look. Considering that he was nearly half naked at this point, it wasn't very comforting.  
  
Draco continued to watch his father, a wary look still very much present in his eyes. "Ah, Father?"  
  
"What is it *now*, Draco?"  
  
"I don't want to fall in love with Potter. He has bad teeth. And bad breath. Hell, he's got the worst sense of personal hygiene in the year, and there's not a chance that I want to fall in love with him. Then I'd have to snog him or something."  
  
Lucius shook his head at his son's naivety and finally managed to remove his shirt completely. "Try shag, Draco. Not just snogging, not even the full-frontal kind. We're talking NC-17."  
  
"Now that's just nasty. I refuse to have sex with Potter! Er, why are you taking your pants off?"  
  
"So I can rape you!" He paused in his actions and shot Draco a rather disgusted look. "I swear, the only way I can get through each day is by reassuring myself that your genes come completely from your mother's side of the family. There's no explaining it otherwise."  
  
Draco gave his father an affronted look. "Look, Dad," He said firmly, "Why would you want to rape me in the first place? There's no evidence of sexual abuse in the books, not even any evidence for physical abuse, and there's no reason for you to want to see me off in Potter's smelly arms. I'd only turn against you and fight for Dumbledore and become friends with Harry's Mudblood friends after all, and then one of them or I would end up killing you to make up for the years of abuse supposedly inflicted on me. And then there would be tears and crying, and you know I don't *do* crying, it makes my face go all red and splotchy. So please, for the love of Salazar, put your clothes back on and we shall never speak of this incident again."  
  
Lucius sighed heavily and sat down on the bed. Unfortunately he was now completely nude, and this didn't make Draco feel much better. Lucius patted the bed beside him, obviously wanting Draco to go over near him. Draco wasn't stupid. He stayed right where he was, pressed firmly against the locked door, holding the lamp to use as a weapon in case his father came too close.  
  
"Draco, my dragon," Lucius began, but paused at the disgusted look on his son's face. "You've never called me that before! No nicknames, that's not like you!" Lucius, however, ignored this and continued. "I don't have a choice in this. Honestly!" Lucius stood, swinging free, and began to pace the room. "I'm not a *bad* father," he went on, somewhat petulantly.  
  
"No, you're just trying to RAPE ME!"  
  
Lucius ignored that as well.  
  
"I went to all your Junior Quidditch games when you were younger, I get you gifts and support your school, I'm preparing for your future, I turn the other way when you sleep with the entire Hogwarts staff on a dare, including Hagrid, Draco, and if you think that this is disgusting I want to know how you managed that!"  
  
"I was drunk." Draco said mutinously, his face painted bright red. "I don't even remember it. It might never have even happened."  
  
"It was Hagrid, Draco and you let him take pictures. Besides, being drunk is no excuse. You say you're drunk when you've slept with Snape and didn't mean to. Sex with that giant...is simply disturbing."  
  
Draco muttered something involving yellow ribbons and Lucius pretended that he didn't hear. "It might have been Polyjuice, you know. Someone could be trying to ruin my good name."  
  
Yet again he was ignored.  
  
"I'm a good person, really," Lucius was saying. "I want what's best for our people, to keep us safe. I don't beat you, I don't beat your mother, who is, by the way, not an insane gibbering madwoman who needs a fully padded cell at Saint Mungos."  
  
"So than why are you doing this again?" Draco asked, hands still steady on the lamp. Lucius turned back to him and put his hands on his hips. Draco wished he wouldn't. It made for a rather distracting sight. Of course, it was distracting in the same manner that a four way Splinch was distracting, but there you go.  
  
"I'm doing this so that you can eventually shag Harry Potter."  
  
"Who I don't want to shag at all."  
  
Lucius shrugged. "That's not my problem. Like you said, I'll be dead by the end of all of this anyway. My role in this is simply to fuck you so that you can betray me."  
  
"And you don't see a problem with this?"  
  
"I can get through it. I've slept with your mother, haven't I?"  
  
Draco made a face. "Okay, nasty thought that."  
  
"Sorry." Lucius was starting to move towards him. Draco thought fast. "Why Potter? Why not Granger, she's pretty enough, or Pansy? Hell, even Weasley's little sister would do at this point. Someone, who is, you know, a girl? With breasts? And no penis?"  
  
Lucius looked thoughtful. "Well, I suppose that you could take a Jusenkyo potion and turn yourself into a girl. Would that do?"  
  
"No!" Draco scowled at him. "I refuse to take part in this. I'm not going to sleep with Potter, and I'm sure as hell not going to sleep with you. I'm not gay, dammit!"  
  
Lucius snorted. "Oh, come off it, Draco. In every one of these fics you look like a girl any way."  
  
This, at least was true. Draco reached his a hand up carefully to feel hair that had suddenly gained nearly a foot in length and pooled over his shoulders and half way down his back. The mirror on the far wall cast back an image of himself and he was rather disgusted to see wide, mercury grey eyes and pale, smooth skin made almost luminescent by the poor lighting. He sneered at his face. His reflection looked rather like a puppy trying to be fierce. /Not even a Doberman,/ he thought wistfully. /Just a sodding puppy./  
  
He returned his hand to the lamp and his gaze to his father, who was suddenly looming over him. He realized too late that in stories like these he usually lost five inches of height and two scones in weight. He meeped.  
  
"Now be a good boy and turn around, would you?" Lucius looked slightly bored. "I want to get this over with. I've got a meeting with the supreme ambassador of evil at three and I don't want to be late for it."  
  
His hands reached for Draco's top robe button. Draco slammed the lamp into his head.  
  
Lucius collapsed on the ground in a very naked pile. Draco poked him with a toe, and receiving no response, kicked him a few times.  
  
Feeling slightly mollified, Draco stepped over his father and picked up the discarded pants lying beside the bed. He shuffled in the pockets, pulled out the keys and his wand. He glared at it suspiciously before sticking it into his pocket and walking back to the door, careful to tread several times on his father's back and head. He unlocked the door and exited, feeling rather disgusted with the whole scenario.  
  
/So someone wants me to get it on with Potter,/ he thought, somewhat bemused at it. /Like that's ever going to happen!/  
  
As he walked, he used his wand to trim his hair back to a suitable length, only to have it grow back and arrange itself into a pretty braid. A ribbon appeared to tie the end. He stared at it in horror. The ribbon was rainbow striped. It had "I *heart* Harry" in glitter print. As he watched, the lettered disappeared only to return with "Go Gryffinfor!" They started to blink.  
  
Entirely pissed off now, Draco stalked down the hallway, kicking at a House Elf on his way out. "Fuck angst slash!" He bellowed at it. It ran away rather quickly. "I'm not sleeping with Harry bloody Potter! No way! Not a chance!"  
  
He didn't know what was going on, but he was certain that someone did. They were probably laughing at him, but he was determined not to give in.  
  
/Someone,/ he thought darkly, face cast in shades of grey shadow and pure light, /is going to *pay*./  
  
The effect probably would have been better if he hadn't suddenly realized that under his wizard robes he was wearing a skirt.  
  
The resounding furious scream that followed echoed through out the Manor.  
  
Author's Notes I love slash. I'm a total H/D shipper. It's amazing. It's great. It's wonderful. The sheer amount of it boggles my mind. The sheer amount of bad H/D makes me want to cry. The amount of times rapist!Lucius has been used to further an H/D plot makes me want to scream. Hence this fic. Somewhere out there, I'm fairly certain, there is a good H/D story that incorporates L/D and does it well. I just haven't found it yet. No offence to anyone meant, whether they be L/D shippers or not. It's just meant for fun. Points to whoever can identify where the potion comes from. 


	2. Eye of the Beholder

Matter of Personal Opinion

Eye of the Beholder

            Harry James Potter, the golden boy of Hogwarts, He Who Lived to Have Capitalized Nicknames, Gryffindor, and all around nice guy, was brooding.  Angsty brooding.  Even, dare we say it, /_out of character_/ brooding.

            This was frustrating him to an extent, as it was the middle of a disgustingly sunny morning, which he could have sworn was done just to piss him off, as any normal English morning would be rainy and dreary and better suited to his mood.

            Harry was currently sitting on his rumpled bed, gazing out the window with shadowed green eyes.  Around him lay tattered remains of Witch Weekly articles, thoughtfully mailed to him by one of his schoolmates.  Titles such as "Boy Who Lived Bites Bigtime?" and "Salacious, Saucy Stories: What *Really* Happens in Gryffindor Tower!" and "Lead Astray, Harry's Confession" were strewn about him haphazardly.  The ones that referred to him in degrading terms had been kindly highlighted and charmed with an anti-tearing spell.  Pictures of Harry had been mustached and bearded, devil horns penned onto his photo-face.  

            The worst had been spelled to gleefully read themselves aloud, generally in high pitched, self-satisfied tones that somehow reminded Harry of ferrets.  Harry had stuffed them under his pillow.  It hadn't helped much.

            The crux of the matter wasn't the articles themselves, of course.  Harry had been shocked to discover that whole anthologies had been devoted to him, his practices, his words, everything that had happened in his life outside of the Dursley's home.  Not all of them had been particularly pleasant, and several had been filled with antedates he'd forced himself to forget about years ago, embarrassing moments from childhood that he really could have lived without remembering.  Or worse, knowing that people around the world were reading.  

/_After all_,/ he thought plaintatively, /_they really didn't need to know about the time when I was seven and Dudley convinced me to go skinny-dipping with his friends, right?_/  

He shuddered.  The sad memory of having to run across town in his aunt's best polyester pink paisley evening gown wasn't one that he particularly wanted bandied around, but he suspected that it was too late for it.  

            A sudden loud knocking on his window made him jolt up, and he looked over to see a rather odd sight.  Draco Malfoy's twin sister was sitting on a broom, scowling at him.  Her long hair was being tossed by the wind in silvery ringlets that swept over her face and eyes.  Despite being twenty feet in the air, her arms were crossed over her (he checked) disappointingly small chest, but otherwise she looked remarkably beautiful.

            This, of course, came as a bit of a surprise as he'd never noticed that Malfoy had a twin sister, and given that they'd attended school together for the past five years, one would think to have picked up on this fact.

            "Er," Harry said, and then he blinked.

            The girl's scowl deepened and she pointed furiously to the window, gesturing for him to open it.  Harry complied.

            "Er," He said again, as she had missed it the first go round, and then blushed as one of the magazines snuck out and shrieked a particularly embarrassing sentence involving Harry, a rutabaga, and an abandoned closet.  

            He hastily grabbed the article and thrust it back under his pillow.  Then, for good measure, he sat on it.

            The girl gave him a look that clearly stated that she thought him to be the stupidest creature on Earth, and yes that included Vincent Crabbe's pet rock Smucky.

            "Potter," Her words were spoken in a low alto.  Harry found himself rather enchanted.  Her face twisted, as though she couldn't believe she was saying this.  "I need your help."

            "I didn't know Malfoy had a sister," Harry said at last, glancing again at her chest.  She *was* wearing a rather volumous robe, after all, it might just be particularly well concealing.

            The girl bristled.  "I _don't_, you jackass!"

            "I never said you did," Harry said consolingly, "I just said that Malfoy didn't.  You'd have a brother."

            Malfoy's sister looked furious.  "I don't have either!  I *am* Malfoy!"

            Harry blinked again.  "Er," he said at last, "If you're Malfoy, then you're a very girly looking Malfoy."

            "Fuck you, Potter."

            Silence descended.  

            "So," Harry said at last.  "Um, what brings you here?"  He still wasn't certain that the person he was speaking to was Draco, but the grey eyes and silver hair suggested Malfoy blood at the very least.  He decided to stay away from pronouns for the moment.  

            "I need your help."

            "Oh?  Why's that then?"

            "...My father tried to rape me."

            Harry choked.  The would-be Draco glowered at him and crossed his or her arms again.

            "Listen Potter, not a single word about it, or I'll hex you into next Tuesday and then we'll never get out of this."

            Harry, meanwhile, wasn't really listening.  Somewhere in the depths of his shock-crazed mind little voices was singing the line "Incest!  It's the game the whole family can play!" repeatedly.  He choked on the thought, halfway hyperventilating, and Malfoy had to smack him several times about the head and shoulders before his breath returned to normal.  That settled things; only Draco Malfoy would look that gleeful about an opportunity to hit him.

            "So, did you, erm, have a problem with a Jyosekyo potion or something?" Harry gasped, when he had caught his breath.  Draco looked vaguely upset, but whether this was because of the potion reference or because he didn't get to hit Harry any longer was anyone's guess.  "Because, I'm telling you," Harry went on, "You really, really do look like a girl."

            Draco scowled.  "No, I did not take a Jyosenkyo potion, Potter.  And I don't look like a girl."  The wind took this moment to pick his long hair up and flutter it, bringing adjectives such as "angelic", "lovely", and "definitely girly, no two bones about it" to mind, even if the last wasn't technically an adjective.

            Harry wisely didn't mention this.  Instead he leaned back against the wall, scooting his legs closer to his chest as Draco slipped through the window, leaving his broom floating forlornly outside.  The blond boy looked down at the articles and smirked.  

            "Potter's Ponderous Peter?"  He read, looking delighted.  "I never knew you'd let them write about something so...personal, Potter.  Did they take measurements or did you just tell them?" 

            Harry blushed furiously and grabbed the clipping back.  

            "I hate you."  He told the other boy dourly.  

            "I'm sure that you do," Draco said, still grinning.

            "No, I mean I really, really hate you."

            "Likewise, I'll tell you."

            Harry glowered.  Draco ignored this and glanced about the room, taking in Muggle clothes and the desk covered in owl feathers, the torn Chudley Cannon's poster half falling off the wall.  He snorted.

            "Look," Harry said, "What are you doing here?  I mean, I'm sorry about your dad and all, but there's not a lot I can do about it, is there?  Shouldn't you talk to Snape or Dumbledore or someone about it?"

            Draco looked mutinous.  "I tried."

            "What d'you mean, 'tried'?  You either did or you didn't.  And how'd you know where I live, anyway?"

            "I couldn't go anywhere else, I tried, believe me.  As soon as I got on the broom, though, it went straight here."  

            "What do you mean, straight here?  From where?"  Harry asked, looking quite furious at this point.  "And you didn't answer my other question!"

            "Don't you get it yet, Potter?  Haven't you looked in the mirror?"  Draco sneered at him.  "Someone's messing with reality again.  They've caused a warp in space and time, why else do you think I'd look like this?"  He gestured to his face.   "Someone out there wants us to shag, and they're pulling strings to make it happen."

            Harry felt revolted.  "Ergh." He said, his face twisting. 

            Draco nodded.  "Ergh," He agreed, and sat back down on the bed.  

            "I mean, honestly," Draco continued, "Why on Earth would I want to shag you?  You're smelly and your hair is awful, and let's not wander into the discussion regarding the sad state of your clothing."

            Harry glared at him and elected not to mention his thoughts before he'd known that this Malfoy was Draco.  "As if I'd want to shag you, you great, nattering ponce!"

            "Oh, _brilliant_ insult, Potter, I think I'll want to go have a cry now."

            "Fuck you, Malfoy."

            Draco suddenly looked bemused.  "I don't think so, really."

            "Ergh!"  

            Draco started kicking his feet against the sides of the bed.  "The only thing I can see is that we've got to find who is doing this and kill them."  He nodded for emphasis.

            Harry blinked.  "Kill them?"

            "Kill them _dead_."

            "Ah."  That did seem to be the point of killing someone.  "Er, Malfoy?"  

            Draco gave him a sidelong glance but didn't say anything.

            "How do you know that?  I mean," Harry continued quickly as Draco started and opened his mouth to speak, "Why would anyone want us to have sex?  That doesn't make any sense, after all.  Why would you think that?" He got a suspicious look in his eyes.  "Unless you /_want_/ to have sex, and this is all just a clever plot to get into my trousers or something."

            The response to this was two-fold.  An extremely withering glance came first, followed shortly there after by words spoken in an exceedingly bored tone.  "I know that it someone wants us to shack up because my dad told me so.  He was acting all weird, and he said something about needing to beat the crap out of me so that you could find me and we would fall in love and have vast quantities of sex.  Oodles of it.  Mountains of sex, pure oceans of-"

            Harry looked pale.  "I think I get the idea, thanks."

            "You sure?  I read the Bronte sisters recently, I'm sure I can come up with some other good descriptions."

            "No, no...quite alright, thanks..."  Harry paused a moment before adding, "The Bronte sisters?"

            Draco shuddered.  "I don't want to talk about it.  Suffice to say, if I ever, _ever_, meet anyone named Heathcliff, there's a whole list of hexes I've got set aside solely for him"

            Harry nodded, sympathetically, and attempted to change the subject to something lighter than the Bronte's and their literary horrors.  "So, what happened to Lucius, then?"

            "Hit him with a lamp."

            "Oh."  Then, "Good on you, Malfoy."

            Draco brightened for a moment, but he was soon frowning again.  

            "It still doesn't tell us who set the whole thing up," He said, feet still bouncing.  He looked rather adorable, Harry decided, and then shuddered violently.  

            "I mean, obviously they're slashers, or we wouldn't be in this situation.  I'd be off having my way with Granger, or Weasley's little buck toothed sister, or Sinistra or something."

            "Sinistra?" 

            "Yeah."  Draco smiled slightly, eyes closed.  

            "You had it on with Sinistra?"  Harry asked, eyes wide.

            "Maaaybe," Draco said, and smiled again.

            "Ergh," Harry repeated and then got back to the topic at hand.  "So, we know it's a slasher, and one with a dirty mouth to, given how many times the word "fuck" has been uttered so far.  I know I don't swear this much usually, even if I can't say the same for you."

            Draco nodded.  "And apparently whoever it is likes me to be short and pretty, and you to have sparkling white teeth.  Fucking-A, Potter, they're straighter then the Weasel in a bad H/D."

            "Isn't that what this is?"

            "Shit.  You're right."

            Harry thought for a moment.  "Actually, I'm not sure that Ron is straight."  He had to reach forward to catch the other boy's arm as he nearly fell off the bed.

            "He and Granger were all over each other last term!"

            "What are you on about?  Hermione's so pure she doesn't dare look down in case she sees her own breasts."  Harry stopped a moment, looking shocked. 

            "Good Lord," he said, "Did I really just say that?"

            Draco nodded.  "Apparently we can add 'Granger-hater' to the list of qualities our person has."

            Harry still looked rather stunned.  "But who would hate Hermione?  I mean, she's smart, and nice, and-"

            "And she likes to slap people about, that's what."  

            "That's a matter of personal opinion, Malfoy."

Draco crossed his arms.  "Let it go, Potter."

            Harry glared at him for a moment more, but did as asked.  Well, more like commanded, but the thought still counted.  He pretended that it did, at any rate.  A thought occurred to him.

            "Sinistra?"

            "I thought we'd handled that one, Potter.  Do try and keep up with the rest of the class."

            "There isn't any class, you twit."

            "Details," Draco yawned, waving a hand.

            Harry bit his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment.  "If that's true, then is that rumor going about last year about you is al-"

            The temperature of the room dropped several degrees.

            "_Absolutely not_."  Harry could almost hear icicles dripping off of each clipped syllable.

            "Ah."  He murmured tactfully.  "I didn't think so.  I mean, it would be a bit awkward, wouldn't it?  I mean, Flitwick, just think about it, and-"

            "I don't think I really want to, Potter."  Draco looked somewhat pale, in a sort of extremely pissed off sort of way.  "Can we talk about something else?  Like how to avoid the two of us being combined with passionate acts that have names we dare not speak?"

            Harry looked doubtful.  He'd actually been rather curious about the whole Flitwick thing.  He wasn't entirely certain that was how the quote went, either.  

"I suppose so," He conceded.  Draco looked rather relieved.

            "So," Draco said, but frowned, apparently unable to think of anything to add.

            "So," Harry agreed, unable to think of anything either.

            A long moment passed, punctured only by the tinny voice of one of the articles, which had managed to sneak out again and was trying to make it into the hall.  Harry threw a shoe at it.  It squeaked and shuffled under the bed.  

            "Um," Harry said at last, studying his fingernails.  They were rather ragged.  "Shall we go see Dumbledore now?"

            Draco raised an eyebrow.  "Why?  What's he going to do?"

            "I dunno.  It just seems like the right thing to do."  Harry shrugged, and watched as the other boy nodded slowly.  

            "Yeah," Draco blinked.  "You don't think this has to do with whoever it is, do you?"

            Harry shook his head.  "No, we always go to Hogwarts sooner or later."

            "Couldn't we just write an note and sent it with your owl?"

            Harry thought about this for a minute.  "We _could_ do that," he admitted, "But I like my way better."  He reached out the window and pulled Draco's Firebolt in.  "See?  We'll use this and fly back."  He beamed at his own brilliance.

            Draco snorted.  "And risk getting seen by every Muggle from here to Bristol."  

            Harry looked somewhat crestfallen but began to put the broom back.    

            "I guess you're right.  It would piss your father off a lot too, wouldn't it?"            

            Three minutes later they were off to Hogwarts, both seated precariously on the broom, Harry making mental notes to remember to use this unusual reaction to What Lucius Would Want as blackmail in the future.  Draco was mostly muttering.

            In a complete reversal of temporal and special law, they flew north into the sunset.

***

So we end chapter two.  I didn't even expect there to _be_ a chapter two, when **bam**! Plot strikes, and what can you do?  

Alas, not much.

Next chapter, we arrive at Hogwarts, there is a sorting, and the Heir of Hufflepuff is announced.  Amazingly, we see nothing of Ginny Weasley.  Also, the dreaded Sex Bed should make a reappearance, and we learn why the boys dislike Charlotte Bronte so very, very much.

In between chapters, there should be cookies and bits from future scenes at my live journal.  There's one up there from "A Matter of Honest Opinion", and another from "A Whiter Shade of Pale," which I hope you will enjoy.  That addy, for the uninformed, is http://www.livejournal.com/~ginzai/.  

Ah, and kudos to Lys ap Adin, who was the only person who reviewed who got the Jyosenkyo potion reference!  Good for you!

SailorWade, thank you for your encouraging words. ^_^  (I'm very glad that the last chapter didn't make you want to vomit.  Here's hoping that this one does the same!)

Azalais, I'm glad that you enjoyed.  I definitely look forward to reading your het-Malfoy fic, though I'm hoping that the het in this case isn't Narcissa/Draco, which would just be squicky.  

Elf Princess Bloom, the thought of Lucius "swinging free" makes me snigger more than anything else.  I hope the image didn't disgust you too much.  ^^

BlackCypress,  your reaction seems just the sort I was hoping for.  I'm glad that you liked it!  

Aftertaste of a Razorblade, I don't think that this chapter was as satirical as the last, but there's more fun to be poked in future chapters. (How exactly does one poke fun?  I mean, really?  Wouldn't people be afraid that if they poked fun at things once too oten, fun would poke them right back?)  I hope you liked it anyway!  

Ginzai

September 27, 2002


	3. Broomride

A Matter of Personal Opinion

Ginzai

Chapter Three:  Broomflight

           Flying like this was reckless, dangerous, and utterly unthinkable in Draco Malfoy's usual mindset.  They were zooming through the air, completely visible to any and all Muggle eyes.  It was stupid, it was feckless, and it was absolutely against the Slytherin practice of discretion.  

           But it was going to piss Lucius off, and given their parting, anything that irked Lucius was suddenly in vogue to Draco.

           Plus he got the pleasant sensation of irking Potter at the same time.  He'd been muttering about Draco's hair smacking him in the face for the past two and a half hours.  Draco had heard him sniggering a few times, presumably because of whatever the ribbon had enchanted itself to say, but had decided that he really didn't want to know.  His sanity had had enough shocks over the past twenty-four hours, really.  What ever it was couldn't be pleasant, given that each time he tried to blast the bloody thing off it grew back poncier than ever.

           Meanwhile, the air was clean, crisp, and while he had the sinking feeling that it wasn't the season it should be, it was almost ...pleasant... this broom ride.  This was slightly unnerving, really, as anything that involved close proximity to Harry J. Potter wasn't anything that his mind should label as a good thing, and he could only attribute that to the machinations of whoever was in charge of the universe at the moment.

           He hadn't been completely honest with Potter, which was nothing unusual, when he thought about it.  Draco did know more than he was telling, especially in regards to what was happening.  It was an L/D dimension, or had elements of one, which was a start, and while he didn't know who had started the blasted thing, it certainly gave him an edge.  Potter still thought that it was a mere manipulation of the world as they knew it, like so many of his misadventures were.  

           Well, he mused, Potter had known what H/D was, so he was likely to have some slight understanding of the subject.  This didn't speak for much, as far as Draco was concerned.  The entire world was likely to know the horror that was the H/D.  He'd even heard that there were current Hogwarts students who were fans of the idea, heard that there were members of the /faculty/ who were closet shippers, but he hadn't been able to discern their identity as of yet.  He'd planned on using Lucius' influence to have them fired or expelled, whichever was the needed method of expulsion, but Draco didn't think that would work anymore.  Regardless, Potter still thought it was a mild appoliptic event.

           Draco knew better.  This was old Magick, this rewriting of time and space to reflect the world as another wished.  That all whoever was in charge of it apparently wanted Draco to shag Potter said volumes about their mindset.  The meager clues that he and Potter had managed to put together about who the author might be seemed frankly inadequate, and Draco didn't have any reason at all to believe that Dumbledore would be able to help them with it.  

           He snorted at the very thought.  If the man hadn't picked up on two Dark Lord wannabes and a werewolf on his staff then Draco had no reason to think he'd be any help in finding who the culprit was this time, no matter what Potter thought.

           And Potter!  What had happened to /_him_/?  Draco didn't think that this was fair in the slightest.  /_Why is it,_/ he mused to himself, /_that when I get pulled into a slash fic, I'm turned into a girl sans breasts, but when Potter gets pulled into a slash fic, he's turned into the wizard from the cover of Wands of Temptation_?/  

           This much was sadly true.  Draco didn't think that Potter had taken a look at himself, as he'd yet to exclaim over the suddenly rippling biceps, the newly clefted chin, or even the fact that his rather scrawny frame had sprouted a good five inches and gained twenty pounds of pure muscle.  Then again, Potter was remarkably stupid. It was entirely possible that he had seen but that the realization that the wizard in the mirror was himself hadn't yet hit.  Draco didn't really want to be around when it did; Potter was known to become violent when the world changed on him too suddenly.  

           All in all, it was disgusting.  Whoever had decided that he and Potter were to shag hadn't really taken into account the pragmatics of a relationship where one member was nearly a foot shorter than the other and weighed about half as much.  He'd /seen/ that look Potter had given him, before he'd gotten it through his thick skull that yes, the figure outside the window was Draco, and yes, he was still of the masculine persuasion.

           "How much further?"  The wind was blowing so loudly in Draco's ears that he almost didn't hear Potter's shout.  He blinked.

           "I haven't a clue!" Draco called back over his shoulder.  "I thought you were driving!"

           Harry looked horrified.  This quickly turned to amazed frustration. "Of course I'm not, you twat!  _/I'm not up front, am I_?/"

           Draco looked down at his hands.  Well, this was true, he supposed.  Hell would freeze before he'd admit it, of course, but the fact remained that it was true.

           He brought the broom to a halt.  It hovered in mid-air, several hundred feet over a field.  He could see mountains in the distance, but they didn't appear to be the ones near Hogwarts.

           He twisted about; his new form might be the most feminine looking thing he'd ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on, but he was currently remarkably flexible.  

           "And which one of us," Draco asked acidly, "Is the one to have flown to Hogwarts before?"  Antagonism was as good a way as any to save face, and one that he'd used more than once.  It was remarkably easy to deflect blame when one started an argument.

           Potter, as expected, turned puce.  This was an interesting contrast to his sparkling white teeth, which were currently bared in a grimace.  "I was riding in a car, following the train.  I haven't got a single clue of how to get there from here!"

           Draco crossed his arms and shot Harry a disgusted look.  "And how was I to know that?  The broom started to move, you weren't complaining, and it seemed that *someone* knew where we were going, and since it /wasn't me/ it had to be you."

           Harry narrowed his eyes at him.  "I thought you said your broom was enchanted."

           Draco looked puzzled.  "Come again?"

           "Your broom!"  Harry said, looking rather vexed.  "You said that the only place it would go to was my house, unless you were lying about that as well."

           Draco was indignant.  "I never lie!"  At Potter's unbelieving expression, he added, "At least not when I'd be around when the truth comes out.  I'm a Slytherin, Potter, we /plan/ for these things."

           The other boy snorted.  Draco found himself rather wanting to smack him.  

           "So," Harry eventually said, "Your broom just *happened* to fly you to my place, is that it?"

           "And here I thought this had already been established."

           "And you haven't been in control of it at all?"

           Draco shook his head.  The bright prune color was starting to fade from Harry's face, but it was doing so in a rather splotchy sort of way.  Had Draco been in the mood and had the pieces, he could have done a bang up job playing chess.

           Harry began to curse.  Loudly, and in rather remarkable ways that had Draco somewhat impressed.  He wouldn't have thought to do that with a beetle and boomslang skin.  The addition of the enchanted umbrella was a particularly nice touch.

           He was really on a roll when Draco interrupted.  "Potter, d'you have any idea of where we are?"

           Harry scowled at him.  That decided it the matter of whether he knew what he looked like.  No wizard looking like he'd just stepped off the cover of WQ would ever willingly pout like that.  He couldn't think of any grown wizard who would pout like that.  Not with all their clothes on, at any rate.

           "No, I don't know where we are," he snapped.  

           Draco bit his lower lip and, after a moment's consideration, directed the broom downwards.  The broom rocketed off, keeping on an even streak.  Harry yelped and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, nearly pulling them both off.  

           "Where are you going?" This was bellowed directly into Draco's ear, which set it to ringing.  

           "I haven't a clue!" Much the same as it had the first go-round, the broom had launched itself and was moving forward without any conscious control on Draco's part.  This grew worrisome as the broom suddenly zoomed upwards nearly vertically.  Harry yelped in Draco's ear, his face pressed against Draco's neck.  

           "Push down, push down!"  Potter was trying to reach around Draco now, in an attempt to take command of the broom.  Draco, who was having none of this, jabbed his elbow backwards.  Harry's cry of pain was nearly lost to the wind screaming in his ears, but Draco did get the satisfaction of seeing him nearly fall off.  The words that Potter was shouting started to come clear, 

           "-op, stop, stop, _/stop,/ /stop,/ /STOP_!/"

           The broom stopped.

           Draco sat straight upright, grasping the handle with both hands.  Harry was still holding on to him, but neither really seemed to care about it at the moment.  Wind still rustled their hair, but it wasn't the same as it seemed to be before.  Far below, Draco could see little white clouds, looking as distant and poofy as the banners his Housemates held up during the Slytherin Quidditch matches. 

           "Well," Harry said awkwardly.  "Um, that's done it, hasn't it?"

           Draco nodded, slowly.  He managed to unclench his hands slightly, wincing as blood circulated back into them.  He could feel Harry relaxing slightly, removing his elbows from where they had been poking into Draco's waist as they reached around him.  

           His heart had just begun to return to a frantic pace from an OHMYGODIMABOUTTODIE one when the broom dropped out of the sky, taking both boys with it.

***

           Harry, let it be known, never had actually liked heights all that much.  He hated aeroplanes, when he'd been forced into one back when he was seven and the Dursley's couldn't leave him behind on their annual vacation.  He'd absolutely loathed the flying carpet ride that Arthur Weasley had secretly given all his children, and Hermione and Harry too, since they'd been there at the time.  He honestly wasn't all that comfortable with leaning too far out of the high Gryffindor tower windows, and when push came to shove, he'd far rather be on the ground then up in the air.

           This, perhaps, was why he liked Quidditch so much.  Brooms were /wonderful/ things, really, and they allowed him complete and utter control over his phobia.  Being high above everything was no problem when he was the one commanding the situation, astride a broom that answered only to his commands.  Despite his abysmal luck in brooms and curses, he'd kept his feelings towards flying for years, regardless of the unusual amount of times someone had taken it into their heads to scare him off a broom or hex him off, or anything of the sort.

           Being trapped on a free-flying, out of control broom several thousands of feet in the air with only Draco Malfoy for company was currently at the top of his Ten Most Hated Activities in the World list, narrowly edging out "singing karaoke with Voldemort and Snape in tutus," and that was mostly due to the bespelled ribbon smacking him in the face every few seconds on their way down.  Well, that and the sheer mind numbing terror.

           Harry didn't scream as they fell, and nor did Draco, though both had grabbed onto the other and Harry suspected later that their silence was less from bravery than from being unable to /breathe/ in enough air to be able to.  He honestly couldn't remember much of those moments afterwards, just that sickening lurch as the broom dropped under them, and the wide, terrified look in Draco's eyes, his own green gaze being reflected back in them, and deciding that maybe he could find enough air to scream after all, or perhaps die trying, (a thought which had seemed wildly ironic at the time) when they were stopped, buoyed upwards and slowly bouncing to a stop.

           For several long moments, Harry couldn't move.  He could feel earth beneath his fingers, could smell grass and even sneeze as it twitched its way into one nostril, but movement seemed quite beyond him.  This seemed to work out well enough, as two extremely skinny legs attached to two extremely bony feet made their way towards him.  They stopped not more than half a meter away from him, at a distance more than close enough for his comfort; those toenails, proudly painted hot pink with little yellow smilies on them, needed trimming.

           He blinked upwards.  A white bush topped with two twinkling blue eyes peered down at him.

           "Hallo boys!"  It was Dumbledore, of course, but why he'd ever thought that purple flowered Bermuda shorts were a good fashion choice was beyond Harry.

           "The _fuck_?"  Draco muttered from his other side.  

           "Er," said Harry.  He sat up, wincing.  Given that he'd expected to be dead now, bruised knees and a thwacked side weren't really the worst things in the world, but they still hurt.  Harry could hear Draco getting up as well, complete with muttered curse words and random expletives.  

           "Welcome to Hogwarts!"  Dumbledore said beaming.  He gestured behind him.  A rather small shack stood on the top of a pathetic looking hill.  As Harry watched, a shingle fell, bounced down the roof, and nearly smacked into a rather disgruntled looking cat.

           "Are you mad?"  Draco asked.  He looked rather put out himself.  "That's not Hogwarts!  That's a-"

           "Temporary entity, Mr. Malfoy."  Dumbledore nodded.  "It is Hogwarts, but much changed - just as you yourself seem to be.  Jyosenkyo potion?"

           This caused Draco to narrow his eyes and glare at the old wizard, but unfortunately the effect was rather lost.  It's impossible to look threatening when a kitten can outdo you in the scary department.  If anything, it merely made him look adorable, which was a thought that Harry strayed hastily away from and resolved never to think again.

           "It was *_not*_ a Jyosenkyo potion!"

           He looks adorable when he pouts like that, Harry thought, and then hit himself upside the head.  "Ouch!"

           Draco looked at him oddly.  "Was it something I said?"

           "Er," Harry said, "Not in so many words, no."  

           He turned back to Dumbledore, who gestured for them both to stand.  

           "So long as you both are here, you might as well come along.  To the main hall!"  With that, he merrily began to bound up the hill.

           "Main hall," Draco repeated as they made their way up the stony slope.  "That doesn't look like it could house a loo, much less a main hall."

           "That's a matter of personal opinion, Mr. Malfoy!"  Dumbledore called cheerfully down to them.  

           "Personal opinion my ass," Draco muttered, but he began to trudge up the hill anyway.  

           Harry stared at him a moment, eyes locked on the heart of Draco's comment, before shuddering and moving to join them.  

End chapter three

Author's notes:          

So it's a short, pointless chapter.  It'd been nearly two months; something had to be put out and the next installment really needs its own spot of HTML glory.

So we didn't get to the heir of Hufflepuff or find out what the dilly yo with Bronte is.  Had to save something for later, ne?  Sex beds too.  I promise.  On something.  Perhaps a sippy cup.  We did get to Hogwarts, so that's something.  And there was no Ginny.  Two out of six ain't bad.  Okay, so it's 33% which is still a failing grade, but hey.  It could be worse.

In any event, chapter four brings (hopefully) all those things and more!  We go *inside* Hogwarts (gasp and shock) and STUFF HAPPENS.  Guess you'll have to stick around to find out what.  ^_^

Thank you to those who reviewed!!  (Especially to SailorWade because she did so **twice**.  *nods*  Thanks!!)


End file.
